The Vanished Into Thin Air Affair, Part II
by Agent Yula
Summary: The exciting conclusion! Can Illya find Napoleon? Can Napoleon save Illya?


The Vanished Into Thin Air Affair

My stories are written for fun. The characters and the shows belong to their creators. I thank them very much for sharing them with us and in no way intend to infringe upon their rights when I write my stories.

**_The Man From U.N.C.L.E. _and its charactersis copyrighted by _MGM Inc/United Artists and Arena Productions © 1964_.**

Part II

By Jodi Miller

Napoleon was awake with his eyes closed. The surface he was lying on felt soft and cushioned. His hands and feet were not bound. The air around him was comfortably warm and the room was quiet. Slowly, and without moving anything else, he opened his eyes. The light was bright, but not blinding. He turned his head slightly and flexed his arms. He looked around the small room noting the sparse furniture, two small cots and a dresser embedded in the wall. With some trepidation, he sat up on the side of the cot he was lying on and tried to remember going to sleep in this room. He could not. 

He tried to remember being drugged or knocked unconscious. He could not. He tried to remember what case he had been working on. He could not. He remembered closing The Monster Wheel Affair, but could think of nothing else. He rose to his feet and walked to the door to try the handle. It was locked.

The cot next to his was empty. That was a good sign. Perhaps, Illya was not with him, in which case he knew he would be rescued soon. On the other hand, he had no idea what was going on, and without Illya, he would have to figure this out on his own.

Without warning, he heard a sharp knock on the door.

"Hello? Mr. Solo?" came a muffled voice.

The handle rattled and began to turn. Solo stood back, prepared to move quickly, whatever course he needed to take.

"Mr. Solo?" The face that peered cautiously around the door was pale and wide-eyed. The hair was dark, greasy and slicked back. There was no beard, mustache or stubble covering the long cheek bones or upper lip. The voice was timid and uncertain.

Solo was puzzled by the man's disarming entrance, but did not respond.

"Um..." The man pushed the door open, saw Solo standing next to his cot and spoke. "I'm sorry to rush you, Mr. Solo, but the others are growing impatient."

Playing along, Solo responded, "Well, then by all means, let's not keep them waiting any longer." Gesturing towards the door, he smiled.

Smiling back and fidgeting, the man turned and walked out.

Napoleon shrugged and followed him. He was led around a long, curved hallway, down a short flight of stairs and through a set of large double doors.

The doors opened and released a loud chorus of voices. Most sounded impatient and anxious, and none waited for quiet before speaking. Napoleon scanned the room as he walked in. Most of the faces were instantly recognizable to him.

Matthew Sparks, owner of Sparks Plastics, Sparks Appliances, SPK TV, and the Minnesota Sparks, a well financed if not overly successful Professional Football team.

Adeem Kramaq, leader of the ASI, a radical group of Arabian terrorists, the existence of which has yet to be proven.

Gunter Heimle, physicist, chemist, doctor, engineer.

The President of the United States.

England's Prime Minister.

Political leaders from Japan, China and Saudi Arabia.

Terrorist leaders, well known and well hidden.

Bruno Van Buren.

Napoleon froze for a second when he saw Bruno. His eyes narrowed as he vaguely remembered a recent conversation. He saw the same glint of recognition in Bruno's eyes. He turned to his skinny guide, but was interrupted by a booming voice.

The voice came from an intercom over their heads, and the room darkened slowly as it spoke.

_Welcome, gentlemen and ladies. I know you are all anxious to begin the bidding, but, for the benefit of our late arrivals, please, be patient as we review the merchandise._

Quietly, the back wall slid away to reveal a large display of televisions. Working together the screens displayed a large picture of a small, tropical island. Towering out of the center of the Island was a massive, smoking Volcano.

As the camera angle zoomed in and around the island, the voice continued. _My name is Dr. Zane Druthers, many of you may have heard that name before and dismissed it without thought. I assure you that today you will regret that action. This is the Island of Varsaiy. It is not on any but the most detailed oceanic charts, and exists merely at the whim of the dormant Volcano that has created it. _

_Peaceful and silent it has rested untouched by human hands for thousands of years. Until now! hidden from the prying eyes of government satellites all over the world, is the largest most powerful laboratory in existence. For centuries, volcanoes have housed the worlds greatest source of energy. Until now this energy has been beyond your reach, no matter how high and wide that reach may be._

The scene on the screen was changing. It showed several men, dressed in green overalls, working around a huge, black vehicle. The front of the vehicle came to a sharp, spiraling point, a huge door hung open in the back and the workmen looked dwarfed as they walked in and out. Large tracks towered over the men on each side of the vehicle. The sound of the engine was loud and grinding when it roared to life, spinning the sharp, drill on it's nose.

_This is the V-kar! _The voiced was haughty and proud. _Without this vehicle and the strong, heat resist metal it is made of, none of our achievements would have been possible. It was in this massive vehicle that we carried all the equipment and hardware necessary to build the facility you are now housed in. And it was in this vehicle that we descended into the natural powerhouse that is Mt. Varsaiy!_

The picture changed to a large room filled with computers, mechanical devices and laboratory equipment. From the corner, a short balding man, dressed in dark pants and a pale green lab coat, walked into the center of the room and spread his arms out to his sides. The voice continued, but now Solo could see the man in the movie was the narrator, Dr. Zane Druthers.

_Around me you can see that we have accomplished what each of you said was an impossible fantasy. You have all been specially chosen from among those too pompous and arrogant to back, with funding and manpower, the ravings of this "mad man"._

Dr. Druthers shifted his thick glasses, and passed through several doors, walking quickly in front of the camera. Finally, he entered a high ceilinged room that glowed with a strange brightness. The Dr. stopped in the middle of the room staring ahead of himself into the source of the light. As the camera turned and with a great show, he gestured toward a tremendous, glowing machine that was housed behind a transparent wall of shaded glass. 

_Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, V.E.T.I., Volcanic Energy Transference Instrument, and the answer to the worlds energy crisis!_

The murmuring in the room grew louder and Solo shifted on his feet. Around him he heard the conversation. Most were scared, most disbelieving, some were more concerned with who Dr. Druthers was and who he was working for. Solo looked around the room in the dim light and tried to find Bruno Van Buren. In Solo's estimation, Bruno was the most dangerous man in the room. If any of Druthers' claims were true, none of it could fall into the hands of Thrush.

Bruno stood at the front of the room enthralled by the visions before him. Solo thought he could almost see the drool hanging from his mouth. On the screen, Dr. Druthers' power transformer had been replaced by a small, empty, cubical room. On the floor was a round disc, its twin hung from the ceiling directly above. Behind a second transparent wall stood a thin graying women, with her back to the camera. She was working on one of three computer panels. When she turned, the words she spoke to her green coveralled assistant were muted. Dr. Druthers' excited narration continued.

_Now, my guests, the grand finale of our accomplishments! Before your eyes is the single most impossible machine your idiocy could ever condemn!_

As they watched, a bright twinkling filled the area between the two discs. Slowly a form began to materialize out of nothing. The room burst with startled cries of disbelief as the form slowly took on the recognizable shape of a human being.

With a shock that was almost painful, pieces of Solo's memory returned to him. He remembered sitting in Waverly's office discussing the mysterious vanishings of over a hundred citizens, and he remembered listening to an elderly lady tell him and Illya that a man she had known for years slowly faded away into nothing before her very eyes.

When the visions faded, Solo thought a moment, something about his memory of Illya had bothered him. He concentrated on his friend, wondered where he was and what he was up to, but could remember nothing else.

The movie continued, showing several of Dr. Druthers' "guests" appearing in the small room. The narration was almost drowned out by the frightened amazement of those standing around Napoleon.

_This incredible device, the secretes of which are known only to me, is only the beginning of what we plan to accomplish here inside Mt. Varsaiy. I have brought you all here to see the power that you will never wield and offer you the opportunity to fund our next endeavor. Use of the Molecular Remapper that brought you here is for sale! _

The room slowly grew greedy and quiet.

_I will listen to your bids shortly, but understand that the secretes that run it and the V.E.T.I. are mine and mine alone. You will all be forever paying me for their use! _

Druthers chuckling laughter could be heard even as the picture faded away and the lights came back up. A door opened to the left of the screen and Druthers entered surrounded by three big and heavily armed guards.

The people stood in shocked silence for several seconds. Then, erupted into a raucous clamor for Druthers' attention. Bruno Van Buren was at the front of the crowd and his voice could be heard above all of the others.

After narrowly avoiding being knocked to the ground several times, Solo decided he had heard and seen enough. Carefully keeping an eye on Druthers, his guards and Bruno, Solo backed toward the door and slipped out of the room.

He walked up and down several empty halls before finding an elevator. Getting in he chose to ride down. Two floors later the elevator stopped and let him out. These halls were as quiet and deserted as those above had been. Their were very few doors and only one with a window.

Solo pushed up onto his toes to see in the small, square window. The room was full of machinery, and computers. Their were several tables scattered with papers. He recognized the room from the video. It was here that Dr. Druthers had begun his tour of the facility and his amazing inventions.

Solo tried the handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. He slowly walked around the room. Very little of the equipment was familiar to him, and he wished Illya, and his scientific background were at hand. Thinking of Illya brought him a twinge of concern that he could not place a reason for. He paused in the middle of the room trying to remember the last time he had been with Illya.

"You are not supposed to be in this room." A stern, irritated voice interrupted his thoughts. He spun to see that a women had entered the room through a back door. She was slim and tall, her hair was dark with silver streaks revealing her age. Her glasses had thin metal frames that almost disappeared when she looked at him. Her face was lined with apprehension and she looked more tired than angry.

He smiled when he saw her, and answered in a kind, innocent voice. "I'm sorry, Miss........"

"Brandon, Gilda Brandon." She said with a sigh. She put her hand in her pocket and drew out a small, square device. Holding it up in front of her she walked towards one of the tables.

".....Miss Brandon." Napoleon continued. I was just having a look around, you know, see the merchandise first hand." He walked towards her table and looked over her shoulder.

She pulled away, not letting him see the device. "Well, you'll have to leave. I'm very busy."

Napoleon ignored her words and watched her walk across the room to make some adjustments on a computer. She kept looking back over her shoulder at him. She seemed nervous and uncertain, anxious about his presence. He tried another idea.

"Dr. Druthers sure has outdone himself here hasn't he?"

Gilda Brandon snorted. Then looked up and laughed in an effort to hide her reaction. "Yes, this is quite an accomplishment." She looked at Solo. "Look, sir, you'll have to leave. You'll miss the bidding."

"Napoleon, please, call me Napoleon." He ignored her request again. Walking over to her again he said, "You don't seem to impressed with Dr. Druthers. Is he not a kind employer or is it just the locale that has you disheartened?"

She became indignant. "Dr. Druthers is an amazing man. Why, there was a time when I would have done anything for him!" She stopped horrified at her outburst.

"But not now?" asked Napoleon with his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Tell me Gilda, what exactly did Dr. Druthers invent."

Gilda spun away from him. She grasped the small device in front of her chest and closed her eyes.

Solo pressed, "The power source? The vanishing machine itself?" He saw her shoulder tense with each question. "Or was it simply the idea to use it all as a weapon and sell it to the highest bidder."

Solo watched her back, when she turned to look at him, he could tell in her eyes that his intuition and insight about people had been right again. He also saw the device in her hands, it was a remote control. 

Miss Brandon stared at him. "How did you know?" she asked incredulous. "Who are you?"

"My name is Napoleon Solo," he narrowed his eyes and pointed, "and what are you planning to do with that remote control?"

She gasped and looked at the device as though she had forgotten that she held it. "I....I don't really know." She answered, dropping her shoulders with a sigh.

"Could I, perhaps, make a suggestion?"

She stepped back, narrowing her eyes with distrust.

"Trust me, Miss Brandon," He said with his best smile. Then, guiding her with his hand on her back, he led her to a chair. "Why don't you sit here and tell me all about it."

"Well I...I don't really think..." She sat down, laying the remote on her lap and wringing her hands.

"Start simple," said Napoleon, "how did you get into this Volcano? and how come we can stay here without melting into nothing."

"That's simple?" She questioned with a wry curl in the corner of her mouth.

Solo smiled back at her, "Compared to transporting objects and people from one side of the world to the other, almost instantly? Yes, getting inside a volcano seems simple."

Gilda Brandon took a deep breath, thought for a moment and began. "I met Dr. Druthers in Hawaii. He was studying the volcanoes, but having trouble getting funding for his invention. He had developed a heat resistant metal that he believed he could use to build a vehicle that could travel into the center of a volcano." She paused.

"Why a volcano?" Solo asked with an encouraging nod

"I guess that's what everyone else thought as well, because no one would give him any money. But you have to understand Mr. Solo. Dr. Druthers is no fool. The dormant power smoldering under the surface of those mountains is tremendous. All of his efforts, all of his research, all of his time has been spent trying to find a way to tap that power!"

"I guess he was successful." Solo said looking around at the room. 

"Yes, **we** were successful." She stressed the we' as though Solo's he' was an irritant. "Dr. Druthers' metal alloy was heat resistant and with some ill appropriated funds we did create a vehicle that was able to dig it's way into the heart of a volcano and thrive there. The amount of data we collected was tremendous."

"**We**," again she said the word with meaning. "immediately began working on a way to access the volcanic power. Dr. Druthers was insistent that we work in secrete. He didn't want any of his former nay-sayers to prosper from our work. Unfortunately, we did need money. He was forced to bring in funding and scientists with less than trustworthy motives."

"When we finally built the V.E.T.I, and it actually worked! I thought he would go public, but he seemed even more determined to hide from the scientific community that had scoffed at his ambitions. I tried to reason with him." Gilda wrung her hands and looked at Solo in anxiety. "But he became unreasonably angry, he yelled at me, accused me of conniving against him! Me! The only one who believed! The one who did most of the work! I couldn't believe it!" She was growing more and more distraught and angry.

Solo interrupted, taking her hands in his. "all right, all right try to relax." His voice was soothing and calm.

She stopped and breathed out long and slow. She looked at her lap, then up at Solo watching her. "That's when things started to get really bad." She continued more calmly. "We had built this incredible lab, deep inside Mt. Varsaiy, and I was stuck here. The V-kar is under guard, and it takes two pilots to maneuver it. There are only two ways out of here alive, Mr. Solo, the V-kar and the Molecular Remapper."

"Yes, the Molecular Remapper, You haven't told me how he developed it."

Miss Brandon looked Solo in the eyes. Her fear and frustration turned to anger. "The Remapper is **mine** Mr. Solo! He didn't trust me anymore and began searching my room and my files. I had a secrete ambition of my own and he found it! I believed in Dr. Druthers' power source and I helped him make it come true, because I needed it to power my own dreams."

Solo watched her and listened in amazement.

"Please, believe me, Mr. Solo, I never wanted to do the horrible things he has done. The people that he....oh dear God, forgive me!" She closed her eyes as though trying to block a vision.

Solo reached out to comfort her again. "The people, Miss Brandon?"

"Yes, the people." She continued, her voice almost a whisper. "Tapping into the United States Satellite system to find people was easy, but the Remapper had to be tested. The human body is not as molecularly simple as a table, or a car, or even a tree." her voice was rising and tears filled her eyes. "It took us months to bring in a living rabbit. Every animal is different, every human is different!" Finally, she burst into tears, and dropped her head into her lap.

Solo paused before reaching to comfort her. The full meaning of what she had just said was slow to sink in. Flashing before him was the memory of a stack of papers on Waverly's desk, a list of hundreds of names, the faces of several people he had interviewed, anxious to find their missing friends and family. All of those people were dead. Chosen at the whim of a greedy mad-man.

Gilda Brandon sobbed beside him. Her guilt was more than he could understand. Reaching out to her, he choked on words that held little comfort. "Please, Miss Brandon, I need your help."

"How?" She muttered between sobs. "With what?"

"Where is the V-kar, for one, and what are your plans for that remote?"

She stopped crying and looked at the device in her hands. Then, quickly, as though she had made a decision she said, "I'm blowing it up, Mr. Solo! I'm finally ready to do it, will you help me?"

Solo sighed and smiled in approval. "Yes, I will."

She jumped up with a squeal of excitement and started across the room.

Solo stopped her with a hand on her arm, he had to grasp it tightly to get her attention. "The V-kar? Where is it? And the...ahh...dignitaries. Where will they go for the night?"

"Why?" she asked in innocence.

Smiling Solo answered her. "As much as the world might prosper from the loss of some of those men and women, it would certainly suffer from the loss of the others. And I have no intention of 'going out in a blaze of glory' as they say."

"Oh..." she said as though the thought had never occurred to her. "It's two levels down, directly below us., and they stay in rooms on the same hall your room is on."

"Good, do what you have to do, then lay low and wait for me." He started to leave, but she called him back.

"You're right about that "blaze of glory" Mr. Solo." She surprised him when she grinned in anticipation. "When I blow the V.E.T.I. this volcano will erupt like nothing this world has ever seen before."

Solo raised his eyebrows at the thought, then grinned back at her. "Please," he said, "call me Napoleon." Then he turned and left the lab.

Instead of going in search of the V-kar, Napoleon headed back the way he had come. He wanted to find the other guests' and he wanted to keep an eye on Bruno Van Buren.

Seeing Bruno earlier had brought back visions of a conversation on a city street. Now as he quietly walked the halls of Dr. Druthers' hidden Volcano Lab, he remembered even more vividly.

He remembered the high pitched whine in his ears as he walked out of a tall building with Bruno behind him. He remembered a strange tingling numbness in his fingers and throat. He remembered Bruno's sudden uneasiness. He remembered watching Bruno reach for his lighter and being unable to stop him.

When he remembered the rain of bullets that filled the street and the sound of the door opening behind him he felt a lump in the pit of his stomach. He stopped in the hall and closed his eyes on the visions trying to stop what he knew was coming next. He remembered the familiar jerk of Illya's body as one of the bullets plowed into his shoulder. He remembered watching him roll instinctively out of view. Then he remembered the headache and the blurring of his eyes, and then, nothing.

*********

Illya was beginning to boil. Outwardly, his face was a mask of calm determination, but inwardly, his frustration was mounting. He had been on his back in U.N.C.L.E.'s Medical Section for thirty two hours. He had awakened there twenty six hours ago, instantly remembering the eerie vanishing of his partner and friend. 

Since then, he had been growing more and more convinced of the incompetence of the people assigned the task of locating Napoleon's homing signal. Illya knew with certainty that the tiny device was still securely encased in Solo's tooth. Even if his partner was dead, buried, burned or lying at the bottom of the ocean, the signal should be coming in clearly. It would require extremely powerful shielding to hide the signal and Illya was convinced that if he could get his own hands on the receiver he could sift through any interference and find Napoleon quickly.

Unfortunately, the doctors and Mr. Waverly were still united against him, and without Napoleon's assistance he had been unable to connive his way out of medical.

There was a call from outside his room, and finally, the nurse left him alone and he heard her leave the outer room. Holding his bandaged right shoulder with his left hand, he painfully pulled himself to a sitting position. His blue eyes creased and he grimaced.

He paused a moment gathering his strength and smoothing the creases from his face. Holding his breath, he slid slowly off the bed and stood on the ground, swaying slightly. Lights danced before his eyes and he paused again, waiting for them to fade.

After a moment he took a cautious step forward. A small smile curved his mouth when he realized he did have enough strength to continue. With increased confidence, he walked to the door and peeked out. The outer room was quiet, there was no sign of the doctor or the duty nurse. He crept past the nurses station and listened. He could hear voices speaking in one of the other treatment rooms. He wondered briefly who was under their care, but quickly thanked whoever it was for the distraction and walked out the door and down the empty hallway. There was a closet at the end of the hall that he had used before. Opening the door quickly, he ducked inside when he heard voices coming from further down the hall. 

On a shelf in the back of the small, musty room was a stack of lab coats. Pulling one on over his bare back was painful. He wanted to sit and rest before venturing out into the hall again, but decided to wait until he made it to his office. There he would put on his own clothes and rest sitting at his desk where he could make some phone calls.

Two hours later, Mr. Waverly found him sitting at his desk studying a long sheet of paper that had just been delivered from the Communications Section.

Mr. Waverly didn't knock, he didn't yell or reprimand, he didn't even question how Illya had escaped the doctor. He simply pushed open the door and stood puffing smoke in the doorway. Illya heard him enter, expecting an argument. When none came, he looked up from his work. 

"Well," questioned Waverly, "Have you found anything?"

Peering over his glasses, Illya cleared his throat and answered. "Yes, Sir, we have." Illya cursed the weak sound of his voice, but Waverly did not seem to notice.

Bushy eyebrows arched on Waverly's face and he questioned again. "Oh? That is not what they say in the radio room."

"Sir, the signal is there, loud and clear. It only took a little tweaking to find it."

"And where did you find it."

Illya blanched. He avoided the answer. "It has to be right, Sir, I can't find any discrepancies that would lead me to any other conclusion."

"Where, Mr. Kuryakin?"

With a worn out sigh, Illya quietly said, "It's in the Volcano. In Mt. Varsaiy, just as they said."

"Mr. Kuryakin, I'm sure that everyone in the lab has assured you that it is simply impossible."

"Why, Sir? Why is it impossible? A week ago I would have said that it was impossible for a man to vanish into thin air." Illya worked hard to keep the weariness and pain out of his voice. He spoke calmly, determined to convince Waverly that he was fit and in his right mind. "Let me go and have a look, just a external survey of the mountain."

Waverly, narrowed his eyes, puffing smoke.

With practiced nonchalance, Illya continued, "Someone has to go anyway, we need to know what the signal is and how it is working so well in the middle of an active volcano, even if it is not Napoleon's tooth." He watched as his superior pondered. Inside, Illya was tired and anxious, outside he displayed a perfect picture of calm competence.

Finally, Waverly straightened and pulled the pipe from his mouth. He spoke with no trepidation. "Very well, Mr. Kuryakin, assemble a team, and," he paused slightly, "if you can stand up from that chair and walk down the hall without fainting dead away, I will allow you to go with them." When he finished, he folded his arms across his chest, replaced the pipe and smiled, certain that he had made the right move.

Illya's eyes widened and he leaned back from the edge of his chair, where he had been sitting. He dare not show his own uncertainty, but let out a sigh before rising to his feet. He clenched his fist against the shaking and the pain in his chest and arm, and with an extraordinary, outward confidence marched out of the room and down the hall.

Waverly watched in widemouthed disbelief.

********* 

Bruno Van Buren had never left Zane Druthers' side. After the initial shock, he stood silently waiting for the others to finish. Order was barely kept by the three guards that surrounded Druthers. One at a time each man spoke, pleading his or her case. Most spoke in terms of money and power, a few called upon his duty to the human race or the goodness of his heart, but Bruno stood stoically beside him and waited.

Finally, the room grew quiet. When it seemed that no one else would speak Druthers began to rise to his feet. Bruno stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Leaning over he quietly spoke only to the Doctor.

"I'll double it," was all he said, and then he stood.

Druthers' eyes grew wide and he smiled with delight.

The others began to murmur and speak to each other.

Druthers stood from his chair and took Bruno's arm, guiding him out of the room. The three guards, carefully watching the crowd, followed them through the door and locked it.

Solo returned to the room in time to see Bruno lean over Druthers and watch them walk out. He pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest.

The room was starting to come back to life, when the pale, greasy haired, young man entered from the wide double doors with a few armed guards of his own. He still seemed timid and uncertain as he spoke.

"Please, everyone, come with me. It's time to return to your rooms.

Indignantly, Adeem Kramaq spoke out. "What happens now? Where are we going? Get Druthers back here!"

The others in the room chorused their agreement.

Matthew Sparks sauntered to the front of the room, "What about you, little man? How much money does it take to buy you?"

As Solo watched, the room grew loud. Everyone there was a leader, they all expected to be heard and obeyed, not herded back and forth or cast aside as Druthers had done. "Pale and Shy" was out of his league. He stepped behind the menacing guards and let them roughly push the crowd out the door, up the stairs and down the hall. Each was deposited in a room that looked just like the one Solo had recently awaken in.

Adeem Kramaq put up a fight, when they came to his room and Solo used the scuffle to quietly disappear again. Stepping into an open room he held the door almost closed and waited for the hall to grow empty and quiet.

When the last of the "guests" was locked away, Solo's absence was surprisingly unnoticed. The gunmen walked back up the hall, past Solo and down the stairs the way they had come. Solo stepped out of the room and followed the little man down the hall in the opposite direction.

The man walked to an elevator and stepped in. Solo stood back until the doors closed. Then he watched the blinking lights above the doors, the car stopped two floors down and went no further.

Solo pressed a button, calling the elevator car back to his level, and rode it down two floors as well. He walked up and down several halls trying doors and peering in any available windows. He was determined to find the man with the keys. There were too many doors to pick them all, even if Illya were there to help him. Finally, he reached a familiar hallway and peered into the same room he had met Miss Brandon in earlier. She was there still, bending over a computer and speaking in hushed tones to the very man Solo was seeking.

He silently snuck into the room, the sounds of machinery hid his footsteps. Coming up behind his prey he raised his arms to grab him around the neck.

Gilda looked up at the last second and squealed with surprise. "Aahh!"

It was too late, Solo had his man by the throat.

As the little man gurgled in fear, Gilda reached out to Solo. "Oh! Mister Solo, please, stop! There's no need for that. David is helping me!"

Solo smoothly released David and spun him around. He was easy to hold, immobilized.

"You...I....I..." David stuttered.

"You're certain you trust him, Miss Brandon?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Solo. He's my son! Please, let him go."

Solo released the young man, dropping his hands to his sides. "Good, than you'll give me those keys."

"Uhh...um...of course...uh, the keys?" David fumbled in his pockets, but finally came up with a small ring of keys.

"Good man." He said with a smile that instantly helped David to relax. "And how is your work coming Miss Brandon?"

"Oh, were ready!" She spoke with giddy excitement.

"Excellent, you two find anyone else that's coming along and head for the V-kar. Fire it up and be ready to leave."

"What about the guards?" Gilda interrupted him.

David answered for him. "He's called them all to him." He looked at Solo and explained. "Dr. Druthers is a paranoid man, brilliant, but paranoid and foolish. He wants all six of his hired guns around him tonight!"

"Good, it makes things much easier for us, doesn't it." He smiled mischievously. "Get going now. If I'm not there in thirty minutes, blow the V.E.T.I. and leave without me. Do you understand?"

Gilda looked for a moment as though she would protest, then she sighed and nodded her head.

Solo nodded back at them with a look that conveyed his confidence and determination, then he spun on his heels and headed back for the dignitaries.

Solo unlocked each door, he only hesitated briefly at a few of them, wondering what kind of trouble he could save the world if a few of these dignitaries' never showed up again. In the end he had twenty confused but anxious followers as he made his way through the labyrinth-like hallways. It took some time, but eventually they entered a humungous room that reminded Solo of an airplane hanger. To the left, the tall V-kar towered as it rumbled to life. The rear of the vehicle was open and as the group climbed the ramp the room was filled with an ear piercing squall.

From the top of the ramp Gilda Brandon called down to Solo. "Mr. Solo, the alarm! What do we do?" He could tell she was starting to lose the feeling of excitement that kept her from trembling with fear.

"Will this explosion keep us from getting out?" he asked, purposefully staying calm and slowly making his way up the incline behind the others.

"Not in the V-kar, nothing can stop it." She said with pride.

"Then blow it and let's go!" he smiled and touched her elbow as though he were suggesting tea with lunch.

She looked upset and confused, uncertain how to continue. "What about Dr. Druthers, and the other men with him?"

Solo frowned, but understood. "Is there a radio on this thing? Can we call him?"

"Not a radio exactly, but we can contact his control room I think."

Walking past the room where thirty or more people were strapping into large cushioned seats, Solo continued. "Call him then, we'll give him a chance join us. But only if he is here in ten minutes, I don't want to give him a chance to stop the explosion."

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Solo, He can't stop it! I'm sure of that." She turned to enter the bridge of the V-kar, but stopped and spoke again. "Thank you, Mr. Solo." She smiled, her confidence returning, and left to make the call.

Solo turned to the room lined with rows and rows of high backed chairs. "All right now, Ladies and gentlemen. Please, fasten your seat belts and return your tray tables to their upright and locked positions. Extinguish all cigarettes and stow your bags under the seats in front of you as we prepare for take off."

No one was listening to Solo, but they did strap themselves in tight, when, with a blast that shook their bones, the V-kar leapt into the air and came down with tremendous force.

Dr. Druthers was irate. He grasped the counter in front of him and trembled, staring at the view screen before him. It showed the teary eyed face of Gilda Brandon, as she pleaded with him to come to the V-kar at once.

With his face turning red he screamed at her. "How dare you! You can't stop me now! You'll never get out of here alive!"

Behind him Bruno Van Buren was quickly losing the smug, confidence he had been enjoying. He silently berated himself for not keeping a closer eye on Solo. He grasped Druthers' chair and spun him around to face him. "You do have your people under control, don't you?" Bruno's anger was much more dangerous. It frightened Druthers out of his own.

"I...I..." Druthers stammered. Then grew sure of himself again. "I can stop her. I know it. The V-kar can be controlled from here." He turned back to his controls and dove furiously into his work.

On the screen, Miss. Brandon's eyes grew wide. She turned to her son. "David, the override! Did you disable it?"

David sucked in a breath behind her. His voice was barely audible over the speakers. "No......It will take some time!" He jumped from his seat and ran out of the range of the screen.

Bruno stood again with a smirk growing on his face. He'd beat Solo yet. And take Druthers and his molecule machine back to Thrush.

On the screen, completely ignored, with tears running down her face, Gilda Brandon pulled out a small remote control device and pressed in a short sequence of numbers.

**********

A warm tropical breeze blew through the camp Illya and his small group of scientists had set up at the base of the Volcano. Mt. Varsaiy poked its head up from the waters of the Pacific Ocean and formed a tiny island. With its volcano dormant for many centuries, the island had developed lush vegetation and inviting beaches. Its small size and "off-the-beaten-path" location, had protected it from the ravages of man. 

Illya studied his computer readouts and adjusted settings on his satellite hook-up. Around him, palm trees waved, birds called in the distance, insects buzzed, and small animals, displaced by man's sudden arrival, peered through the brush at his feet. Normally, Kuryakin may have taken the time to breath the fresh air, view the beautiful scenery, and silently daydream about his cold, snowy homeland. Now, his attention was completely engrossed in his work.

The quiet beeping of his communicator pen jogged him to attention.

Reaching into the pocket of his white lab coat, he pulled out his pen and opened the frequency.

"Open Channel D," he said distractedly.

"Your report, Mr. Kuryakin, is over due," came Waverly's instant and aggravated response.

A rumbling tremor in the ground around him interrupted their conversation before Kuryakin could respond.

Illya's brow furrowed as he steadied himself. When the trembling stopped he held up the pen again. "Sir, I think something is happening here...."

He never finished.

Seconds after the tremor had passed, the ground beneath his feet shifted horribly, throwing him to his back. This time the shaking didn't stop. Illya heard voices yelling above the roar of the quake, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Scrambling to his feet he reached out to the table for security.

Another loud roar shook trees and small fissures began to appear in the earth around him. As he grappled with the table he lost his grip on the pen communicator he had been holding and it tumbled away, out of sight. For an instant he looked at the equipment on the table before him and considered how to save it. As the table collapsed in front of him, he impulsively grabbed for the small tracking device.

The shaking intensified as his fingers closed around the device and he fell backwards, rolling down an ever increasing incline that had not existed minutes before.

Rolling in the opposite direction his communicator beeped incessantly as it disappeared into a deep, dark opening in the earth.

*********

Solo rolled with the rocking V-kar, made it to his knees and set off, crawling towards the door to the bridge. Loud pounding vibrations sounded over his head, and the grinding sound of metal on rock assaulted his ears. The rear of the kar lifted upwards as he approached the door and threw him hard against it. Finding the latch and ignoring the pain in his twisted shoulder, he opened the door and tumbled in.

Gilda Brandon and her son were strapped into seats on opposite sides of the room. They fought violently with the controls before them as they guided the V-kar through the rumbling volcano. Solo made it to another seat to his left before the kar lurched again and threw him upward. He landed with blinding force longways across his chair. He heard and felt a familiar snap in his rib cage, but quickly struggled to a sitting position and pulled the strap over his shoulders.

He took one deep breath and calmly called out to Miss. Brandon, who either ignored him or never heard him. "I thought we were going to give them ten minutes?"

It was several hours before the V-kar emerged from the depths of the ocean. It came up just short of French Polynesia. It was a little over another hour before the French Military could be convinced not to attack them outright, to dock the V-kar, and to wait while it and the passengers were searched and debriefed. Finally, Solo was able to secure a private channel to Alexander Waverly.

Instead of the enthusiastic and surprised greeting he expected, Solo was greeted with a brisk question. "Mr. Solo, is Kuryakin with you?"

Taken aback and raising his eyebrows as he spoke, Solo responded, "I was actually going to ask you a very similar question, Sir. The last I saw him was outside the UN. Why? Where is he?"

"We've lost contact with him and his team. If he's not with you, than what have you to report?"

Solo ignored Waverly's lack of concern for his health and proceeded to report how he had discovered the source of the vanishings, stopped a crazed madman and mass murderer, destroyed the massive weapons laboratory and escaped, saving his own life and the lives of fifty others including the worlds great men and women and the creator of the Molecular Remapper.

"Very good, Mr. Solo," was all Waverly said when he finished. "Return to New York immediately. Waverly out."

"Just a minute, Sir. What are you not telling me about Illya?" Solo demanded.

Waverly's sigh was audible, even over the radio. "Mr. Kuryakin and his team have been out of contact for......nearly four hours."

"Illya and his team? What team? Where is he?" Solo was frustrated with Waverly's unwillingness to come forth with information.

"He and a team of five scientists were performing a cursory examination of the Volcano, he was reporting their findings when it erupted. We haven't heard from them since.

"The Volcano! Sir, that Volcano is about to sink into the ocean if it hasn't already!" Solo almost shouted into the microphone.

"Yes, Mr. Solo, the lab has already informed me of that fact. Accompany those you rescued, and those you captured, to New York immediately." Waverly broke the connection, but knew his orders were not likely to be obeyed. The team of Solo and Kuryakin was one he was uncertain he should have ever put together. Their accomplishments together were tremendous, but the risks they took on each others behalf were not in the U.N.C.L.E. code of conduct!

Solo dropped the mic. in disgust and stood considering his next move. Outside he heard the unmistakable whir of helicopter blades.

*********

Dr. Patricia Sains paused as she reached the top of the rock formation she was scaling. Stray blond hairs that refused to stay lodged in her ponytail, were plastered to her neck and face with sweat and ash. She was winded, but pulled her small, athletic frame to the top of the rocks with ease. First she looked behind her to watch the slow progress of her colleague Dr. Martin Dover. Then she looked up at the rumbling volcano. The ground shook beneath her and she knelt down grasping the rock for security. 

Calling out below her, Dr. Dover clutched the minuscule handholds precariously. 

"Pat...!" He yelled as his hands slipped and he slid back down the rock face.

From her perch at the top, Patricia didn't worry too much, Dr. Dover had not even climbed the first rock. When the trembling stopped, she looked over the edge.

"Marty?" She called when she could not see him.

Stumbling over the roots at his feet, the mildly rotund geologist stepped away from the rock and looked up at her. Squinting beneath the thick lenses of his glasses he called and waved.

"Do you see anything? Anyone?"

"I haven't looked yet, just wait there." She answered. Then she disappeared from his view.

"Can you see the Volcano better? How does she look?" His voice shook with anticipation and fear.

After several seconds he heard a startled cry from above. Then she yelled out. "DENNIS! DENNIS!"

Below her, Dr. Dover, begged for information. "What? What is it? Do you see Dennis? What about Mr. Kuryakin, Leita or Dr. Kito?"

Suddenly, Patricia was scurrying back down the rock. She slipped the last few feet and hit the ground hard, but stayed on her feet. She was breathless and excited, ignoring the cuts and bruises left by the rock on her hands and knees. Grabbing Dr. Dover by the shirt sleeve, she pushed him ahead of her into the woods. 

"I saw Dennis, walking towards the beach. There are more residual boulders down there that we can climb and wait for rescue."

"Then why are we headed back into the woods? Let's get down there."

"Because, I also saw somebody laying on a ledge of that cliff that sprung up where the camp used to be."

"Laying? Were they dead?" Dr. Dover stumbled over a tree branch and stopped. He turned to look at her, huffing and puffing.

"I don't know, Marty," she stopped and answered him in exasperation, "that's why were going there." Then she gently touched his arm and pushed him forward.

The rumbling started again as they reached what was left of the campsite. Dover collapsed, sweat dripping into his eyes, and clung to the ground desperately. Sains continued towards the cliff she had seen earlier, getting as far as she could before the trembling earth threw her to her knees. The rocks above her swayed, but held fast. Nearby she heard the crashing whoosh of a tree falling to the ground.

When the trembling stopped, She was once again struck by the stunning silence. Without waiting for Dover, she stood up and began to ascend the cliff face before her.

When she reached the ledge, only about 8 feet up, she found two prone figures leaning against the hard rock. Kuryakin lay with his eyes closed, there was a small trickle of blood dripping from his forehead and his black T-shirt was wet and sticky over his right shoulder. In his arms and resting his head on Kuryakin's chest was Dr. Harry Kito. Kito's face was covered in blood, and the makeshift bandage that was tied around his head was soaked.

"Harry? Illya?" Patricia spoke to them quietly, and reached out her hand to touch them.

She jumped when Illya was instantly awake. He looked at her, shocked and groggy.

"Dr. Sains....."

"Gathering her wits and her strength, Dr. Sains pulled Harry Kito into her own arms. "Illya, can you help me get him down? We have to move quickly, get to the beach."

"Yes, of course." With a steadiness that surprised her, Illya rose to his knees and began to lift the unconscious doctor.

"Go to the bottom, I'll lower him. Do you think you can handle him down there?" Illya's voice seemed to her, as solid as the rock they sat on.

"Dr. Dover is down there, he'll help me." She spoke as she scrambled over the ledge and down.

Reaching the bottom, she called Dover to help as Illya, holding him under his arms, began to lower Kito towards her.

When Dr. Dover saw Kuryakin lean over the side and began to lower his colleague, he jumped to his feet and ran to help Sains.

When Illya was finally able to release the weight of the unconscious man he fell back against the cliff, closed his eyes and tried desperately to slow his breathing. The dull ache in his shoulder caused his whole body to pound, and scream in refusal to obey his commands. To him, it felt like an eternity before his hand answered his call to wipe the sweat from his eyes. Glancing at the blood and soot that came away from his forehead, he wiped his hand on his already bloodied shirt and grimaced as he pushed himself up to his knees. When he moved, his hand knocked something metallic against the rock wall. He looked and reached down to pick up the small tracking device that stilled beeped in rhythm with Napoleon's tooth. Glancing at it, he noticed with surprise that the signal had moved. It was no longer centered within the volcano.

Below him, Patricia Sains called. "Mr. Kuryakin?"

"I'm coming. Have you seen anyone else?" It took him a moment to find his voice. In his own ears it sounded shaky and weak.

"Only Dennis. He's heading towards the beach," came the reply.

Climbing down the short distance to the ground was torture, but when he finally stood on the ground beside them, the confidence they held in his ability to get them home was evident in their eyes. Breathing deep, and once again pushing the pain from his mind he motioned for them to move out.

"Dr. Dover, help me with his shoulders, Dr. Sains, lift his feet. Let's move."

**********

Solo walked purposefully out towards the Helicopter pad. There were three, armed men standing around it and he had no plan for confronting them, but he knew he was getting on that chopper. As one of the men approached he was preparing the best, most convincing grin he could muster.

With his hand outstretched to greet Solo, the man spoke first. "Are you Solo?"

Confused, Solo answered truthfully and shook his hand. "Yes, I..."

"Good, we were about to leave with out you. We're going out to the volcano to look for a bunch of scientists we left there. Alexander Waverly...you know, the head of U.N.C.L.E. over in New York?"

"Yes, I know who he is."

"Well climb aboard, he said you'd be wantin' to come along."

**********

Illya leaned back against the hard rock with a sigh of relief. Closing his eyes, he placed his left hand on his aching shoulder. The wound bled freely now, after lugging Dr. Kito to the beach and maneuvering him up onto the boulders to wait. Dr. Dover and Dr. Dennis Lightfoot stood nearby scanning the beach for there still missing colleague.

Dr. Sains bent down next to him, gently pushed his hand away, and, with a piece of torn cloth, applied light pressure in an effort to ease the flow.

Illya didn't protest.

"How did this happen? It wasn't here on the island was it?"

"No." Illya answered her trying to sit up. "Volcanoes don't make holes like this one."

She pushed him back gently. "What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere with a hole in your shoulder?"

Illya ignored her and turned her attention away from him by asking, "How is Dr. Kito? Any signs of consciousness?"

"No." She spoke with sadness and worry in her tone. Replacing her own hand with Illya's, she turned and leaned over Kito to check him again.

With her attention diverted, Illya sat up. Still holding the cloth firmly to his shoulder, he pulled the small tracking device out of his belt and watched the beeping signal as it slowly drew closer to the island from out over the ocean.

**********

Strapped into a harness and secured with a large hook to the floor of the chopper, Napoleon scanned the beach from high overhead.

Through the head gear he wore he heard the pilots voice. "We'll head straight to the coordinates of their campsite. If we don't find them there, we'll make a run around the beaches."

Solo nodded his understanding and watched the ground intently, searching for any sign of the party. Trees and rocks passed below him, many of them fallen or crumbled. There was a mighty roar ahead of them and Solo looked up to see the Volcano explode with a red hot shower of sparks and lava. He stared, mesmerized for a second by the glowing red and blue mass that seamed, from where he watched, to crawl slowly down the mountainside.

When the chopper slowed and hovered in the air, Solo looked away from the eruption and peered down at what was left of the campsite. Tall, jagged rocks jutted out of the ground, trees lay up-rooted and shook with violent tremors, to the rhythm of the volcano. Through the trees Solo thought he could see a brown cloth that might have been a tent.

If only I had known he was out here!' he thought to himself crazy Russian!' Then he berated himself, knowing there still would have been no other choice. In his frustration, he had to bite his lip to keep from yelling Illya's name fruitlessly into the wind.

To his surprise, the chopper turned away from the site and headed off.

Solo spun around too quickly, feeling the sharp stab of his injured ribs. "Where are we going? Let me down on the cable and I'll look around. They could be injured, or trapped."

"If they're down there, we won't get to them through all that mess. Did any of you see anyone?" was the pilots reply.

Solo dropped his shoulders and returned to searching the ground without comment. The other two men in the helicopter had seen nothing.

The chopper reached the beach quickly and turned to circle around the Island. The ash and smoke in the air made seeing the beach more and more difficult and the pilot flew out away from the island in an effort to avoid all that the volcano spat at them.

"I see em!" The man to Solo's left called out.

Solo turned anxiously to see several forms perched on a pile of rocks on the beach. With a lump in his throat he was not accustomed to feeling, Solo counted five people. Three stood, waving and jumping.

The chopper couldn't land, but hovered about twenty feet above the team. Smoke whirled around and under the chopper blades, and island trembled threatening to collapse the boulders into the sea. Peering out as the cable was prepared for rescue, Solo willed the smoke to clear and give him a view of the survivors.

He tried to be patient as one at a time, and with practiced ease, the helicopter crew descended into the haze and brought up scientist after scientist. Ignoring the constant reminder of his own injuries, he busied himself, helping each doctor board and unhook from the cable. He checked Dr. Kito's injuries and felt for the gently beating pulse. He even chuckled at his unreasonable fear of asking one of the scientists if his partner was down there. He thought to himself, If Illya is down there, I know that stubborn Russian will be the last one up.'

When he finally grasped Illya's hand and pulled him into the chopper, Napoleon knew instantly that his friend was not well. Releasing him from the belt that held him to the cable, Solo grasped him around his chest and pulled him further into the chopper away from the open hatch.

With an outpouring of breath he had not realized he held, he leaned back against the far wall and held his partner close. The other members of Illya's scouting team huddled against the same wall, quietly contemplating their narrow escape. The chopper pulled away from the Island and the crew shut the hatch. The volcano coughed loudly, as though it did not want to release them, but the pilot quickly carried them out of its reach.

Napoleon felt a strong heartbeat below his hands and steady calm breathing, but Illya didn't move and Solo heard the pain in his voice when he muttered, "Did you find Leita Reynolds?"

"No, partner, just relax."

Illya moved slowly, trying to sit up. When a low moan escaped his lips, Solo gently held him in place. "I said, relax." Solo repeated in his I'm-in-charge-and-you-have-to-do-as-I-say-tone.

It made Illya stop and lean back again, but he continued to talk. "Where have you been, Napoleon?"

"Making a mess, as usual. Did you like this one? It was my biggest yet, don't you think?"

Illya moaned instead of laughing.

"What about you? What in the name of U.N.C.L.E. did you think you were doing?"

Illya raised his head to look at him with false indignation. " I was rescuing you, couldn't you tell?"

THE END


End file.
